Out to Lunch
by TeaNSympathy
Summary: Jill takes a rare lunch break and runs into the last person she wants to see. Takes place during 1x10.
1. Chapter 1

Jill doesn't often take a lunch break, preferring to work straight through and eat a granola bar at her desk when hunger requires it. But today the two hours of sleep she'd gotten last night are starting to take a toll on her body. She's feeling lightheaded and unfocused; the words on her computer swim in front of her eyes, rearranging themselves into abstract patterns. Finally, after typing the same sentence three times only to realize that it is just a random assortment of letters, she gives up and decides that she needs caffeine, food, and a change of scenery. She slides a few files for her next case into her shoulder bag and heads to a nearby coffeeshop. Soon she is ensconced in a table by the window with a double latte and a tomato and mozzarella sandwich. She takes a gratifying sip of the hot liquid, willing the caffeine to enter her bloodstream quickly.

Jill is used to functioning on very little sleep, but two hours is tough even for her. Still, she can't quite bring herself to regret last night's activities. Despite the fatigue, despite the buzzing in her temples, she feels a lightness, a warmth, a spreading sense of well-being suffusing her entire self. Who would have expected Roger Gunn to be such a good lover? She hadn't. She wasn't sure what she had expected, but it wasn't…this.

He'd asked her to go see a movie with him last night and she'd agreed, partly because she misses movies and partly because of the look of horrified incredulity on his face when she told him she'd never seen Rocky. Agreeing to go see it seemed preferable to listening to him list all the awards it had won and expound at length on its cultural significance. Plus, it had been a tough day and the case that she'd lost that morning had tugged at her heart, a young mother who had been caught up in a drug bust mainly through being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Jill had been hoping for a good outcome, but, as usual, one did not materialize. She was having a hard time getting the wails of the woman's three-year-old daughter as her mother was taken away in handcuffs out of her ears, and the movie had provided a welcome distraction.

She'd enjoyed it more than she expected to and admitted as much to him on the way out of the theater.

"Of course you did. Best American film ever made," he responded smugly.

"Uh, no. That would be To Kill a Mockingbird."

"With Gregory Peck? Decent, I'll grant you. Not the best."

"We'll have to agree to disagree."

They had paused on the sidewalk. It was time for the evening to be over and for them to head to their respective apartments, but somehow she wasn't ready yet. She'd looked up at him, the contours of his face emphasized by the streetlights, and noted the softness in his grey eyes.

"You remind me of him sometimes. Rocky."

She snorted.

"Why? Because I lose?"

"No. Because you lose and you keep coming back. Sequel after sequel. I heard about the verdict this morning. I'm sorry."

That's when she kissed him. She hadn't been planning to, but the unexpected sympathy, and the feelings aroused by the movie, and this _thing_ between them that had been driving her crazy for weeks converged and she'd thrown her arms around him and pressed her lips to his with a force that nearly knocked him off-balance. He'd responded with equal fervor and, after eliciting a few swears and very pointed "Excuse mes" from people who were trying to get around them, he'd called a cab. They wound up at his place, in a tangle of sheets amid hastily shed clothing. The first time was fast, at her insistence - she didn't want slow, she didn't want emotional, she wanted to get this over with. The second time…well, it shouldn't have been a surprise that Roger Gunn approached lovemaking with the same dogged focus that he did everything else, exploring her body with an attention to detail that mirrored his approach to the finer points of cases. And the third time…well, the third time had been truly exceptional.

"Jill?"

She snaps out of her reverie to find Tina Krissman staring at her with a very peculiar expression.

"Tina. Hi."

"You never take lunch."

Jill shrugs.

"Well, today I do. Clearly you do too." She nods at the brown paper bag and coffee cup Tina is clutching.

Tina is examining Jill's face as though she is reading the x-ray of a possibly terminal patient. Jill suddenly feels very exposed. Tina can smell a tiny shred of contraband onion in a courtroom, can tell if someone has a cold before they do, knows infallibly if someone is lying. If she wasn't a Clerk of Court, Jill is pretty sure she would be a school principal. That, or a psychic.

"You're glowing. Why are you glowing?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. Maybe I got some sun at the game last weekend? Anyway, I've got to run." Jill picks up her latte and the remains of her sandwich, preparing to head out.

"Sit." Sighing, Jill sits. Tina Krissman's commands were not ones that you disobeyed.

"You slept with someone."

Jill rolls her eyes.

"Not having this conversation right now."

"Oh my God." Tina looks as though she'd bitten into her sandwich and discovered it was full of wet cement. "It's Roger, isn't it. You slept with Roger."

Jill's face is suddenly on fire. It is pointless to deny it when she is sure she is the color of a boiled lobster.

"That is a terrible idea. Do you need me to tell you why that's a terrible idea?"

"No."

"You're colleagues. You have the baseball thing. You see each other all the time. When it goes south someone is going to get hurt and it's going to be an absolute nightmare. For everybody. People will have to take sides. I'll have to take sides. I don't like taking sides."

"Nobody is going to get hurt! Nobody is going to take sides! It's fine. Very casual. Two adults doing something mutually pleasurable. That's all."

"Uh huh." Tina shakes her head slowly. "Well, don't say I didn't warn you. I'm warning you. Consider yourself warned."

"Thanks for the concern. I'm fine. Everything is fine."

"You tell Roger to be good to you. Or I will hunt him down."

"I will not tell him that. Please promise me that you will not tell him that either."

Tina shrugs. "Can't promise anything. I just hope you know what you're doing. Catch you later."

"Do not tell him that!" Jill calls after Tina's retreating back. She groans and finishes her latte, then buries her face in her hands, feeling the heat from her still-hot cheeks.

"I hope I know what I'm doing too," she mutters to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Meeting with Delap is unquestionably Roger's least favorite way to spend a lunch hour. It's not quite enough to ruin his good mood, but as he heads back to his office, coffee in hand and with the beginnings of a headache making itself felt, he is looking forward to being alone and finally getting some work done. He likes Tina Krissman, but he is less than thrilled to find her lurking by his door with a file in hand.

"Tina. Hi. What do you need?"

She is glaring at him with palpable disapproval. He doesn't recall having done anything recently that could account for it and is slightly confused. But it's been a confusing sort of day. Probably not helped by having gotten next to no sleep last night.

"Someone left this sitting on my desk. Looks like it belongs to one of your cases."

"OK. Thanks for bringing it by. "

He waits for her to hand him the file and leave, but unfortunately she does not.

"Did you see the game last night?"

He actually hadn't, but he'd checked the scores and knows it was a Mets victory.

"No, but congratulations."

"Yeah."

He thinks now she will leave and he can make a start on the gigantic pile of work on his desk. But she does not.

"It made me think about this friend I have. Mets fan. We go to games together some ltimes. Single woman. "

He is really hoping this is not going to be a long story and hoping even more that it's not going to lead to Tina trying to set him up with one of her single friends.

"Always good to have people to go to games with."

"Yeah. So anyway. My friend had this guy she knew. Also a Mets fan. They used to go to games sometimes too. And they worked together. They were friends for years. And then out of nowhere they started getting romantic. Bad, bad decision."

Roger suddenly has a sinking feeling in his stomach. He iis starting to really not enjoy this story.

"Was it?"

"Oh yeah. Terrible. It was ok for a while, but then things got messy. He started taking her for granted. He didn't respect her space. They fought over stupid things. It spilled over into work. Eventually they split up. Really awkward for all their friends. It got so bad he actually had to leave and find a different job."

Roger's headache is getting worse by the minute.

"That certainly is a very sad story. What happened afterwards?

Tina shrugs.

"Him, I don't know. Don't care to. It was a long time ago. Probably he died. Alone."

"And your friend?"

"Oh, she's fine. She's great. She's a really good person, my friend. Loyal. She's been right there for me for years."

"Well, that's good."

"Yeah. I'm just hoping she'll find a guy who's worthy of her one of these days."

Tina fixes him with a stare that has him wanting to crawl under his desk. He suddenly feels guilty of all manner of misdeeds that he hasn't committed. Tina tends to have that effect.

"Someone who'll appreciate her, have her back. Treat her like she deserves to be treated. I'd really hate to see her get hurt. You know what I mean?."

"I think I do," Roger says uncomfortably, and can't resist adding, "She sounds like quite a catch, your friend. Maybe I should meet her."

Tina narrows her eyes at him.

"No, you shouldn't. Mets fan, remember?"

"Of course. That was quite a story, Tina. Any particular reason you wanted to share it with me?"

"Nah. Just popped into my head. Have a good afternoon, Roger."

She turns to go. He stops her.

"Wasn't that my file?"

She looks down at the manila envelope.

"Nope. My mistake. Someone else's. Later."

After she is gone, he finally sinks gratefully into his desk chair, leaning back and massaging his aching temples.

How the hell does that woman know everything?


End file.
